Why We Fall
by CaptainoftheUSSTardis
Summary: Everyone thinks that the daughter of Bruce Wayne has it easy. But they don't know the truth. The don't know much her father's disappearance affected her. They don't know that she has a mother who is practically never home. They don't know that she can remember everything she sees, only reminding her how bad things have become... until Bruce sets foot in Gotham again.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Hello readers! I'm very excited to start this new story. (Also, Lyssandra is pronounced: Lye-sandra, Lysa: Lye-sa) Enjoy!**

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><p>Prologue<p>

**"Are you sure** she should come to the hearing?" Lyssandra's dad, Bruce Wayne asked from the passenger seat of the car. He gazed back at her quickly, with slight uncertainty, and then back to her mom, who was driving. "Yes," Rachel Dawes replied firmly, not taking her eyes off the road. "It will be good for the jury to see two members of the Wayne family there." Lysa continued to watch her parents bicker back and forth. She was in the back seat of her mother's car, on the way to the court house. They said that they were trying the man who killed her grandma and grandpapa. It was the first time her parents had talked about her grandparents in years. Bruce never really talked about them. Whenever, Lysa had asked about them, he shied away, changing the subject. Even Alfred, Bruce's butler and good family friend never brought up the subject. She only knew that her grandpapa had been a powerful businessman, with a lot of influence over the city, but everyone knew that.

Bruce shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortably at the newspaper on the dash. On the front page in big, bold letters, there was a headline about the hearing, and how Bruce returned to Gotham because of it. Her dad had been away at Princeton University. It was the first time she saw her dad in several months, she hoped he would stay this time.

She remembered the times when he held her, twirled her, laughed with her. They would play for hours on the Wayne Manor grounds.

It was perfect. Her mom was always caught up with work, but made time to see them. Lysa remembered those memories so well, so vividly. She could play them in in her mind over and over. She could always remember things really well, which was both a gift and a burden. Sometimes, she didn't want to remember, because it only reminded her of better times. The times before Bruce left.

"She's only ten years old, she doesn't need to see this stuff," Bruce argued, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Younger is better for the jury," Rachel countered. "You know I can hear both of you," Lysa spoke up, then shaking head and gazing out the window.

Both Rachel and Bruce fell silent, or she thought they did. Lyssandra wasn't paying attention anymore. Only the streets on Gotham outside the car widow filled her mind. Her mom spoke often of how people thought the city was broken, but she didn't like to believe it and she knew her mom didn't believe it either. Bruce's thoughts on the other hand, were a mystery to her. It was possible that he thought the city was broken, but he hadn't spent much time in it for the past few months. Lysa never brought up the subject with her parents.

The car rolled up to the front on court house. Bruce opened the passenger door for her and they were immediately flanked by reporters and the harsh flashing of cameras. Bruce held her hand and she instinctively hid her face in her dad's coat. "It's okay, Lysa," she heard Bruce whisper.

Most of the talking and flashing stopped when they entered the court house. Lysa was grateful for it. And by the look of it, Bruce was as well. She wasn't use to all this attention. Sure, whenever she would go into the city with her father the occasional reporter would snap a picture, or a group of people would stare as they passed, but there would never this many flashes at once. It made her uncomfortable, and slightly queasy.

"How long do we have to be here?" Lysa asked her dad quietly. "Hopefully not too long, honey," he replied, equally quiet. He gave her a reassuring smile, as did her mom. Her smiled lingered longer than Bruce's as he looked back up and stared straight ahead, with a slightly nervous but determined look. Lysa wondered what was going through his mind. Was he devastated? Angry? Nervous? Maybe a mix of everything. Whatever he was feeling, Lysa couldn't imagine. She never knew her grandparents, she knew nothing about them. Nothing personal, at least.

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><p>The hearing dragged on for about an hour and a half. Most of the time, Lyssandra didn't know what anyone was saying, and she eventually zoned out, only staring at the busy streets of Gotham. People in suits were walking with bags of food from lunch, reporters waited for the hearing to be over, eager for the verdict. The occasional police car whizzed by and Lysa wondered where they were going.<p>

Lyssandra didn't know how long she'd been staring out the window when the judge's words caught her attention. "I understand there are members of the Wayne family here today," he said, staring at her dad. "Would they like to say anything?" Everyone shifted their gaze to Bruce as he stood up. He stayed silent for a while, and Lysa sat in anticipation, wondering what he was going to say, _if _he was going to say anything at all. He stared at the man who killed grandma and grandpapa, Joe Chill, and left the court room without saying a word. There was a low murmur throughout the room until the hearing continued. "Where's daddy going?" Lysa asked Rachel, holding her hand. "I don't know," she replied quietly.

When the hearing concluded, Lyssandra was the first one to stand up and rush out of the court room, not even bothering to wait for her mom. Rachel would most likely get caught up talking to coworkers. Lysa looked for her dad, if he was still there. The hall outside the court room was still mostly empty, except for a dark figure behind a column down the hall. She recognized his face. It was Bruce. Lysa looked back at the court room, people were starting to exit and she caught a glimpse of Rachel looking for her. Lysa quickly walked over to the column where she saw Bruce. He was fiddling with something in his coat sleeve when she got there. "Daddy, what are you doing?" She asked, looking at his sleeve. He looked up quickly, shocked. "Oh nothing, honey. Go and find your mother," he said. "But-" Lysa was cut off the chatter of reporters. "Mr. Chill!" They cried, snapping pictures and holding recording devices to his face. Bruce whipped around see the commotion. He told Lysa to find Rachel again, and then stepped out into the hallway, towards Chill.

Lysa started to follow him, keeping a few meters distance, wondering what he was doing. _Was he going to talk to Chill?_ Then Lysa got close enough to see what he was hiding in his sleeve. A gun. He was going to kill him. Actually _kill_ him. Her eyes grew wide and her heart started to race. She didn't know what to do. She quickened her pace, but so did Bruce.

Then a gunshot rang out. It was the loudest sound Lysa'd ever heard. Her ears rang, and her heart raced even faster, worried she that the shot came from her dad's gun. But it hadn't. Bruce looked as shocked as Lysa. Her mother appeared beside her, asking if she was okay and holding her hand. Lysa nodded, wide eyed as they approached Bruce. A hoard of people surrounded Chill; Lysa couldn't take her eyes from the scene, no matter how much she wanted to. She saw him quickly conceal the gun back in his sleeve. "You don't need to see this," Rachel said to both of them.

As they made their way to Rachel's car, only one thought raced through Lyssandra's mind. _Dad was going to kill him. He was going to kill Joe Chill. He was going to become like him. _But he couldn't, he couldn't _actually _kill someone. Not her dad. This Bruce wasn't the dad she played with, who danced with her, who twirled her around the Wayne gardens on sunny days.

Lyssandra slipped into the back seat of the car, Rachel in the driver's seat and Bruce in the passenger's seat. Just like when they drove here. Lysa didn't know what else to do, what to think, so she listened to her parents' conversation.

"Falcone paid him off to get Chill in the open," Rachel said. Lysa didn't know much about Falcone. Rachel never talked about work, but it distracted from her spinning thoughts.

"Maybe I should thank them," Bruce replied bitterly. "You don't mean that," Rachel said.

"What if I do, Rachel? My parents, Lysa's grandparents, they deserve justice... they never got to meet her. I wish they could." Lysa felt a pang in her chest. Rachel gave him a sympathetic look, but it was still laced with concern. "You're not talking about justice, you're talking about revenge," Rachel told him. Bruce shook his head. "Sometimes they're the same."

"They're _never _the same, Bruce," Rachel's tone became more threatening. "Justice is about harmony. Revenge is about _you _making yourself feel better. That's why we have an impartial system-"

"Well, your _system _is broken."

"Don't you tell me the system's broken. I'm busting my ass in school so I can do something to fix it. You care about justice?" Rachel steered the car to an exit ramp, and soon it felt as if the car was engulfed by darkness. The streets were dark, there was hardly any street lights. Trash laced every crevis. It looked like something out of a nightmare. Lysa'd never been in this area of Gotham. Bruce had been careful to not bring her around here. It was the first time she realized how scary Gotham could be. Maybe the city _did _need fixing. Her mom was still going on about Falcone and how he was flooding the streets with crime. "I'm scared," Lysa said softly, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Rachel stopped the car in front of a dilapidated building. "I know, honey. Don't worry, we're going home soon," she soothed.

Lysa just wanted to be in her room at Wayne Manor, with Bruce beside her, reading her favourite bedtime story: _Goodnight Moon_.

"What chances does Gotham when the good people do nothing?" Rachel asked. Bruce was silent, looking down at his sleeve where he concealed the gun in the court house. "Maybe I'm not one of your 'good people'," Bruce said. Lysa could see him slipping the gun out slightly from under his sleeve. "What do you mean?" Rachel asked, slightly alarmed. "All this years I wanted to kill him," he confessed, fully showing the gun he hid in his sleeve. "Now I can't." A wave of shock took over Rachel's expression, as well as Lysa's. _How long had be been planning this? _Had Bruce been thinking of killing Chill when they'd play? When they'd dance? When he'd tucked her in at night? The thought frightened her.

"You were going to kill him yourself," Rachel realized, and she shook her head. "Bruce, you have a family, a daughter to think about. What would have happened to her? What she'd have done without you?" Lysa stayed silent, but felt tears slowing streaming down the cheeks. Bruce didn't say anything, he only looked back at Lysa and stretching his arm out to squeeze her hand. She queezed back, smiling.

Bruce looked back at Rachel, and then to the building. "But you're just another coward with a gun," Rachel shook her head. "No better than Chill. Your father would be _ashamed._" That was the last thing Rachel said, before Bruce looked back at Lysa one more time and exiting the car and walking into the building.

"Let's go home," Rachel said, starting the car and driving towards the main freeway. "When's daddy going to be back?" Lysa asked, still staring at the building her dad walked into as they sped away. They weren't just going to leave him there, were they? Rachel let out a long breath. "I don't know, honey."

After that, Lyssandra stayed up in Rachel's apartment waiting Bruce to pick her up and take her back to Wayne Manor. But he didn't. Then she stayed up the next night waiting. He still didn't come. Then she waited the next night, and week, and month. He just disappeared, nobody knew where he went, not even Alfred. For the first years of his disappearance, Lysa thought that he would stride through their front door, saying how much he missed them. But after four years, she stopped imagining. She started going to public school, since Rachel couldn't pay for homeschooling, and everyone stared at her, every day she heard whispers of her father. "He's not coming back, you know," people would say. "He left to get away from his family." "He's probably lying dead in a ditch somewhere." Most of the time, Lysa ignored the rumours, but sometimes they were too hard to ignore.

She would cry in the bathroom stalls at school, and Rachel was never around long enough to ask her what was wrong. She refused to believe that her father wouldn't come back, but then she turned fifteen, then sixteen, then seventeen, and even though the memories of her fathers didn't fade, her hope did, until there was almost nothing left.


	2. Chapter I

**Author's Note: To the guest that reviewed, **

**1. I understand that Bruce Wayne is young (as you said, about 29), but this is an AU, it doesn't have to follow every detail of the original story, and that's the whole point. So I understand your concern, but I'm not following the original movie to a tee. I am allowed to change aspects of the story, in this case, Bruce is older (35), and still physically capable of being Batman. Hell, Bruce is 55 in The Dark Knight Returns and he can still be Batman, but I digress. **

**2. I'm not going to apologize for writing these types of stories. I like writing them so that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't read it, but don't blame people for writing what they love. And just because I have a couple of these types of stories doesn't mean it's the only thing I'm going to write. **

**Thank you for your time. **

**Now that that's over, enjoy!**

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><p>Chapter One<p>

Seven years after Bruce's disappearance.

**Lyssandra** **was** **the** only one on the train station platform when the train slowly rolled into the station on Friday morning. The October wind blew in her face, making her instinctively run her hand through her long, caramel-brown hair. Lysa had been taking the train to school every day since she started high school three years ago. She'd been terrified at first, she'd wouldn't go on without her mother for the first week. But after a while, she got used to it. Most of the time it was empty, nobody else on the car, on any of the cars. As the doors opened with a creek, Lysa gripped her backpack a little tighter and slipped into a seat of the graffiti-ridden train.

Alfred had told her that it wasn't always like this. When her grandparents were alive, everyone took this train, the city was in better hands, and it prospered. Now... it was just the opposite. She wondered about her father, as she had done every day for the past seven years. She refused to believe he was _actually _dead, but the chances of her seeing Bruce again were getting slimmer and slimmer. Two years ago, on her fifteenth birthday, she'd missed him so much that she took her mom's key she kept on her dresser and snuck into Wayne Manor and slept in her old room. All of her old stuff was still there, including her copy of _Goodnight Moon. _She'd read it to herself, under the covers, tears welling up in her eyes. Eventually, Alfred found her, but she told him not to call her mom, at least, not for a little while.

"What were my grandparents like?" She had asked as Alfred handed her a mug of hot chocolate. "They were very good people, probably the best people in Gotham. They were always trying to make the city better," he said, then looked down. A wave of devastation made its way onto his face. "It's a tragedy, what happened." She'd been too young to understand before, but know she knew that her grandparents' murder hadn't been just a robbery. It had been planned, thought out by Gotham's crime bosses, people that still walked and breathed and lived, while her grandparents were buried in the ground at Wayne Manor.

"Why did he leave?" Lyssandra had asked, in between a sip of the rich hot chocolate. She didn't know why, but she couldn't look at Alfred when she asked. Memories of the dark streets of Gotham floated to her mind, as perfect as when the day she'd been there. The last time she saw her father. Photographic memory. That's what she had, why she could memorize pages her text books and maps and places and events just by looking at them.

"I don't know why your father left," Alfred replied, squeezing her hand, the way Bruce used to. "And we may never know."

The sound of bells rung through the house, making Lysa jump. A little bit of the hot chocolate spilt over the edge of mug, onto her hand. Her hand jerked away, flicking the drops of chocolate onto the light gray comforter, staining it. "That would be your mother," Alfred told her, getting up from the side of her bed. "You coming?" Lysa let out a sigh and went to meet her mother.

Lyssandra's phone vibrated in her pocket, taking her from her thoughts. She quickly unlocked it and read the text. _I'm going to be home late tonight. Maybe around 8. –Mom. _Lysa scoffed. The last five texts her mother had sent were like this. She always said she was going to be late. On good days, Rachel would come home at 6. On bad days, she wouldn't come home until after midnight. It felt as if Rachel spent more time at her job than at home. Lysa didn't bother replying.

A moment after slipping her phone back into her pocket, she instinctively took it out again to check if there were any news stories about Bruce Wayne, even though she'd set her phone to send her notifications whenever new stories arose. There were none. There hadn't been any since the first years of Bruce's disappearance. And if there were any new stories, they would only talk about how he was _still_ missing.

The train pulled up to the station closest to her school and the doors slid open. Lyssandra gripped her phone and backpack and walked off the train and down the two blocks to her school, Gotham Central Public High School. As she approached the main entrance, she noticed a squad of police cars were parked on the roads either side of the school. Another drug raid. A couple years ago the public school board made it mandatory that the police search the school for drugs, twice a year, to discourage dealing and possession.

Lyssandra pulled open the heavy bullet-proof glass doors and made her way to her locker. It was on the second floor, across from the science labs. Police with their dogs walked slowly beside the rows of lockers, occasionally stopping for a moment, but then moving on. When she rounded the hallway, two police officers were rummaging through an open locker. _Her _locker. _What the hell? _She never smoked a day in the life, and even if she wanted to, her mother worked in the DA's office. If she was caught, she would be grounded for the rest of her life, and probably have to do community service or something like that.

Her pace quickened. "Hey!" she called to the police officers. One was a woman, with caramel skin and dark brown hair wrapped in a tight bun. The other was an older man, with a grey mustache. Her voice caught his attention, and his head whipped around. It was James Gordon, her parents' old friend. "Officer Gordon," Lysa smiled in confusion. "What are you doing in my locker? You didn't find anything, did you?" The contents of her locker were all there, her textbooks, binders, lotion, body spray. She could even see the picture of her and Bruce peeking out from underneath her pair of gym shoes. The picture had ended up there in a fit of rage when she had heard someone say that Bruce had left Gotham because of her.

"Nope, you're clean," Gordon smiled. "Just a false positive. I told Officer Ramirez, here that there was no way Lyssandra Wayne could have anything remotely incriminating."

"Well thanks," Lysa smiled. "But I thought you were above all this," she gestured to the other police officers in the hall. Gordon shrugged. "Yeah well, someone's gotta do it, might as well be me," he laughed, and petted the dog beside him.

Gordon and Ramirez were just about to continue down the wall when Lysa spoke up. "Gordon!" He looked back up at her. "You might want to check the lockers by the auditorium, it always smells like pot when I pass by." Gordon smiled. "Will do."

The first two periods, exercise science and chemistry, seemed as if they lasted an enternity. Lyssandra was so thankful by the time lunch rolled around. It was the time when everyone was wrapped up in their own drama to care about hers. By then all of the cops had left the school. The cafeteria was mostly full. It took up two levels with floor-to-ceiling windows and rows of faded yellow and green circular tables, their school colours. The TVs mounted on the walls were quietly playing the news, like they did every day.

Lysa sat with her two best friends, well, her _only _friends, Alexa and Mason. "Did you hear?" Mason said as Lysa unpacked her lunch. It was the usual. Peanut butter and honey sandwich. "What?" Alexa asked, eating a spoonful of couscous salad. "The police caught Ryan Jackson with almost a pound of weed in his locker."

"Ha! I knew he would get caught eventually. The whole school knew he was dealing," Lysa said. "If he was this oh-so great dealer, you'd think he would have a better place to hide it," Alexa added. "Yeah, well, it's not like the students at Gotham Central are running cartels," Lysa replied with a laugh. "Oh, Lysa," Alexa said, pointing her spoon towards her. "What was the homework for chemistry Mr. Fredericks wrote on the board? I didn't have time to copy it down." Lysa smiled and picture the blackboard in the chem room. "Chapter 5.6 questions one to six, chapter 5.7 questions four, five and eight and chapter 5.8 questions one to three and six," Lysa recited, replaying the memory. "Man, what would I do without you," Alexa asked, pretending to swoon. "You would fail," Mason joked. They all let out a laugh. Lysa's phone vibrated. Probably another text from her mom. Did she have to stay at work until nine now? She pulled it out of her pocket. But it wasn't a text.

It was a news update.

_"'Prince of Gotham' Bruce Wayne, son of the late Thomas and Martha Wayne, returns to Gotham after a seven year-long disappearance."_

Lyssandra had to read the headline three times before in taking the information. Bruce Wayne was back. Her father was back. In Gotham. He was back. Did he want to see her? Did _she _even want to see him?

"Hey, Lysa," Mason said. She whipped her head up from her phone. "Is that your father on the news?" He asked, pointing at the TVs. Every one of them had the same headline that was on her phone. The cafeteria got really quiet, there was a low murmur, and it seemed like everyone was staring at her.

When she started high school, her mother had registered her as "Lyssandra Dawes" but people knew the truth. Alexa and Mason figured it out pretty quick. Now everyone knew she was Lyssandra _Wayne, _and if they didn't, they would find out eventually.

Lysa continued to stare at the screens, and then back to phone, and then the screens again. All of a sudden she wasn't hungry anymore, she couldn't even look at her lunch. "I..." She didn't know what to say. Words couldn't exit her mouth. "Lysa, are you okay?" Alexa asked, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Of course she's not okay, look at her," Mason replied. Alexa said something back, but by then Lysa wasn't paying attention. The temperature of the room was rising, and she needed air. She got up, and ran out of the cafeteria, not looking back. She already knew everyone was staring at her.

She ran through the bright halls of the school, hardly hearing the teachers telling her to stop. She ran until she burst out of the front of the school and sank to her knees on the green lawn.

Eventually, Mason and Alexa found her, well into third period. They said that it would all blow over soon, and Lysa wished she could believe them. The rest of the day felt like it was going at light speed, the people in her third and fourth period classes talked, as she assumed they would. Luckily, she had Mason and Alexa there to keep her mind off the subject. They knew that her father was a sensitive topic, and instead they talked about the drug raid and which senior was supposedly pregnant. Usually, Lysa hated that kind of gossip, but that day it was nice to talk about other people, since everyone was talking about her.

By the time the final bell rang at three, Lysa wanted nothing more than to go home and watch her favourite TV show on Netflix, _Grey's Anatomy_. As she exited the front doors of the school, her phone vibrated, and then kept vibrating. She pulled her phone out. "Mom" in big letters appeared on the screen. "Hi, mom," she said, answering the call. _"Did you see the news?"_ Rachel asked. "Of course I did," Lysa answered. There was a lot of commotion on her mother's end. "Have you talked to him?" Lysa asked. What was Bruce even doing right now? _"What? No, I've been busy,"_ Rachel answered. _"I'm going to see if I can leave early but for now, no such luck,"_ she added, with a hint of disappointment.

An engine revved, passing the main street in front of the school. The car circled back and stopped at the curb, no more than 6 metres in front of her. That was when she noticed that the car was a shiny gray Ferrari, and by the looks of it, everyone noticed, too.

Everyone outside was staring at the car, pointing and whispering. Even the teachers going to their cars were staring. The driver's window rolled down, and out popped the head of Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne.

"Lysa!" He called to her. Now _everyone _was staring at her. She was having trouble wrapping her mind around what happening. Bruce Wayne, who just reappeared after seven years, was picking her up from school. _"Honey? Are you there?" _Rachel's voice came from her phone. Had she been talking this whole time? "Mom, I have to go, Bruce is here," she whispered quickly, and ended the call before Rachel could say another word.

Lyssandra approached the car, to Bruce's smiling face. "What are you doing?" she asked harshly. There it was. The first words she said to her father in seven years. She couldn't take them back. Of everything she had imagined saying to Bruce if he ever came back, this was the furthest sentence from.

Bruce cocked his head. "What do you mean?" he asked innocently. "You couldn't have parked down the street or something?" Lyssandra knew everyone was staring at her, she could feel their eyes on her without needing to look. She could even here the quiet clicks of cameras snapping pictures. Bruce smiled.

"I thought you didn't care what people thought of you," he said, eyeing the other students and teachers on the lawn. "That was seven years ago," she hissed, however her words were faltering.

Lysa stood there for a few seconds more, and everyone was waiting to see what she was going to do. She couldn't bear it anymore, she had enough staring for one day, and she walked around to the passenger's side and slid into the seat. The leather was cool and clean. The car still smelt new, but dust covered the dash. She hadn't been in a car this nice in seven years, more.

Bruce started the car, and the loud hum of the engine sounded and they sped away, leaving the school behind. Neither Lysa nor Bruce said anything for a while, though Bruce kept turning his head from the road to her every couple of minutes. She only stared out the window, at the busy streets of Gotham whizzing by. Lysa then cocked her head towards Bruce. "Why did you come?" she asked. Bruce gave her a look of confusion for a second and then gazed back to the road. "Why did I come back to Gotham, or why did I pick you up?"

"Why did you come pick me up?" To be honest, Lysa didn't think she was ready to hear where Bruce had been all this time, or why he even came back to Gotham.

"I wanted to see you," he replied simply. Lysa let out a short scoff. "Well, you're seven years too late," she sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. Bruce sighed. "Listen, Lyssandra, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to leave but-"

"Then why did you?" Lysa snapped. Bruce didn't respond. She knew that he couldn't give her a good reason of his leaving. "Just drop me off at Mom's, okay?"

"Lysa, honey, please listen-"

"I said drop me off at Mom's. I can't deal with this, or _with you _right now," Lysa huffed. Bruce sighed and turned the car around, back downtown.

Not another word was spoken for the remainder of the car ride, and as soon as Bruce dropped her off, she sped walked up the ten flights of stairs to Rachel's apartment and slammed the door behind her. She let out a long sigh and threw her backpack on the ground just outside her bedroom door. Who did Bruce think he was, to leave, _disappear, _for seven years and then expect Lysa to welcome him with open arms? Maybe that's how it would've happened it she had been thirteen when he returned. But she wasn't. She was seventeen. Hell, she had to apply to university in the winter.

Lysa took her mind off the events of the day by doing homework, and then watching four hours-worth of Grey's Anatomy while eating leftover pizza she'd ordered in yesterday. By nine the events of the day still weighed heavy in her mind, making her exhausted. Her mother still wasn't home. _Surprise, surprise_. Rachel must've got caught up with something. There was_ always _something.

Finally, she had to get some sleep. She quickly showered and put on her plaid pajama pants and white long-sleeve shirt and braided her damp hair. Lysa wrapped herself in her bead covers and tried to block out all of the thoughts spinning in her head.

She was asleep by the time her mother walked in the door.


	3. Chapter II

**Author's Note: Thanks to all those who reviewed, followed etc. Here's the next chapter, enjoy! **

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><p>Chapter Two<p>

One day after Bruce's return.

**The next morning**, the sun shone brightly through the cracks of Lyssandra's blinds, waking her up. All that had happened the day before flew back into her mind like a wave crashing on the shore. She lied in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, deep in thought. _Was that it? Was she going to talk to Bruce again? _

The scent of pancakes and bacon wafted from the kitchen, rich and sweet. Lysa's brow furrowed in confusion. She checked her clock on the bedside table. It was nine a.m. Even on a Saturday, Rachel had to go into to work. She should've left by now. Lysa almost leaped out of her bed, and strode into the kitchen. Rachel was sitting on a stool and the island, staring at her phone.

"Mom?" Lysa asked. "I thought you'd be gone already."

"My boss let me come in a bit later," she smiled, making Lysa smile as well. She took a seat beside her other and scooped several pancakes and pieces of bacon on her plate which Rachel had set out for her. "So… what's the occasion?" Lysa asked, cutting into her pancakes. "I uh, I spoke with your father," she said, her expression changing dramatically. She now looked at Lysa with concern, tapping her nails on the granite countertop.

Lysa almost spat out the food from her mouth. "You… you did?"

"Yes. We talked for a while. He said that he picked you up from school, and you… weren't all that pleased," Rachel let her words come out slowly, as if she was afraid of how Lysa would react. "Well, yeah. I mean, he disappears for seven years without a trace, without even calling, and then shows up again expecting everything to be all fine and dandy!" Lysa cried, running her hand through her hair, most of which had come out of her braid. "I'm surprise that you're not angry." She took another bite of her breakfast.

Rachel sighed before speaking again, making Lysa take slower bites of her food, wondering what was going on through her mother's mind. _Was she angry at Bruce as well? _If she was, she did a damn good job at hiding it. "I think you should stay with your father for a few weeks, maybe a few months," she suggested, avoiding eye contact. Lyssandra's eyes widened. "Wait, what? Why?" she gasped. Her mother reached out and held her hand. "You two need to reconnect-"

"Hey, that's his fault. He _left."_

"I know, but it'll be good for you. He'll be able to drop you off at school, pick you up, eat with you… it'll be good," she reassured, but so far Lysa wasn't convinced. She stared at her food, suddenly having a loss of appetite. "Besides..." Rachel continued, "I'm getting more involved with work, I'm never home."

Lysa gave her mother a "hmm," raising her voice. "Yeah, you are never home," she said bitterly, turning away. "You and your father need to make amends, okay?" Rachel asked in frustration, running her hand through her hair. There was a small feeling deep down in Lysa's chest, itching to see Bruce again. There was truth to what her mother was saying, but Bruce acted as if nothing was wrong, like he hadn't even be _gone_. That's what hurt Lysa the most, and the fact she didn't know why he left. Maybe, _hopefully_, if she stayed with Bruce, she would find out the truth. Besides, it would be nice to have a parent who was around more than six hours a day.

"Fine," Lysa agreed, somewhat bitterly. Rachel smiled. "Thank you," she said. "It'll be good, I promise. Now finish your breakfast and then pack your bags."

"We're leaving today?" Lysa asked, stunned. "Yep, so hurry. I need to be at the office in four hours," Rachel replied, checking her watch.

* * *

><p>It was an unusually warm day for October, and Lysa had the window of the car down as she and Rachel drove to the outskirts of Gotham, to Wayne Manor. In the back seat of the car, Lysa's ice-blue suitcase was packed with clothing, everything from her Nike swimsuit to her pink-chiffon dress she had worn the year before to her school's semi-formal. Two other boxes sat beside it, one was filled with her laptop, pictures of her and her friends and various cords and rechargers, and the other was filled with her favourite books. She would've brought them all if she could, but that would be two more boxes, and Rachel had a limit.<p>

"No more than two boxes of stuff," she'd said just before making the trip downstairs with her suitcase. "You still have a place here, and if you need anything, you can always come back." Lyssandra rolled her eyes. "Yes I know," she called, trying to strategically fit another book into the box.

The streets of Gotham had a low, comforting hum of cars driving by, the click of shoes on the concrete sidewalk and of the indistict chatter of people going about their business. These were the sounds Lysa liked, the sounds she grew up with. It made Gotham feel safe, despite the growing crime rate Rachel always complained about.

The car turned off the high way to an empty road, and soon the Gotham skyline seemed as if it were only four feet tall. Green fields surrounded the road, with the oranges and yellows of the leaves changing colours. It was beautiful.

Wayne Manor came into view, and Lyssandra's heart skipped a beat. She'd only been inside the manor once in the past seven years, but it still felt like home. To someone else, the manor might seem intimidating, with its Victorian architecture, and tall windows lining the walls, staring at the open fields. But for her, it was perfect. She knew every inch of the manor, and her memory always helped her win when she and Bruce would play hide and seek. During one game, when Lysa was about seven, she'd decided to hide not in the house, but behind a two hundred year-old oak tree in the back yard. She waited and waited for Bruce to find her, it took hours. At first, Lysa had been overjoyed when she thought that she'd found the perfect hiding spot. Then, a few more hours went by and Bruce still hadn't found her. The sun was starting to set when she heard him calling. "Lysa!" Bruce's voice rang out through the grounds. "Lysa, where are you?!"

Lysa came out from behind the tree, at the sound of her father's voice. "I'm right here, daddy!" She called out at ran towards Bruce. His face lit up, but his eyes were shiny, just on the verge of tears. She ran straight into Bruce's arms, and he held her tighter than he'd ever done before. "Don't go too far from the house again, okay?" He whispered into her hair. "What's wrong, daddy?" She asked, looking into his eyes. "I thought I lost you, I was scared," he breathed. Lysa's lips curled into a smile. "But you found me." Bruce smiled, and pulled her back into another hug. "Yeah, I found you."

Rachel stopped the car in front of the main entrance, and Alfred was waiting on the top of the steps, hands folded in front of him. However, Bruce wasn't there. _Figures._ A small part of her wished he was, and she hated that part of her.

Lyssandra opened the passenger door and then grabbed the handle of her suitcase from the back seat. She turned to the entrance of the manor, and gave a bright smile to Alfred, who started walking down the stone steps. "Miss Wayne," he smiled, opening his arms. Lysa smiled back, letting go of her suitcase and hugging him. "I've missed you," she breathed. "As have I," he replied wholeheartedly. Lysa crossed her arms and gazed past Alfred, through the giant frosted glass doors behind him. "Bruce not here?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm afraid not, he had to step out for a moment, but he should be back soon." Lysa scoffed to herself, hoping Alfred didn't notice. "Come on, let's go inside and get you settled," he said, gesturing to the front doors. Lysa smiled, and grabbed the handle of her suitcase.

Alfred held opened the door for her and Rachel, who was carrying one of the boxes. As Lysa stepped into the manor, she took in a deep breath. The faint scent of lemon furniture polish made its way to her nose, and she smiled a bit. Before Bruce had left, the house always smelled of lemon and whatever was cooking in the kitchen. Lysa, Alfred and Rachel made their way through the main hallway to the grand staircase, that's what she used to call it. Every year on her birthday, she would walk down the staircase in a fancy dress and wave, like a princess. Alfred and Bruce would be smiling and taking pictures.

The steps creaked as they walked up, and Lysa could see dust in the sunlight coming through the windows. Some of the furniture was still covered in white sheets, making the place seem abandoned in a way. Bruce was probably taking the sheets off the rest of the furniture, or maybe in grandpa and grandmama's old room, or maybe he wasn't here at all.

The hallway outside her room was lined with artwork and sculptures her grandparents had acquired. Some where covered with sheets, but other were exposed to the sunlight flowing through the windows. The colours were faded, turning to pastel shades. Lysa remembered them as they were before Bruce left, the oil shining off the canvas in the sun.

Alfred opened the door to her room, and they stepped in. It was substantially larger than her room in Rachel's apartment. The walls were still lavender, and the book case was still filled with all of her old children's books. One book was missing from the shelf. _Goodnight Moon _lay on the end of her bed. Her bed was made without a wrinkle, though she could still see the tiny drops of hot chocolate that had stained the gray comforter two years earlier. The door to her walk-in closet was open slightly, and she could see the bare racks and cubbies that once housed her ten year-old clothes. Lysa walked over to the dresser and opened the drawers. Some of them still had old clothing and toys. "We're going to have to go through all this stuff," Alfred commented, gazing around the room. "Yeah," Rachel said, setting down the box at the end of the bed. "We couldn't take most of it when you moved in the apartment," she added, as if Lysa had forgotten. "Oh, you cried and cried when you couldn't take all your books." Rachel gazed at the short book case by the window. "And you haven't changed," Rachel smiled.

Lysa laughed out of embarrassment, but what her mother said was true. She loved her books, and hopefully they would all fit on the book case. "Speaking of which, I'll go down and get the last box, and then I have to go to work. I'm already late as it is," Rachel said, exiting the room hastily. "I forgot what it was like to have my own bathroom and walk-in closet," Lysa commented, walking into the en-suite bathroom. The cream and black towels were neatly folded, hanging on the towel rack, and her favourite terry-cloth bathrobe hung on the door, though it was too small for her now.

"I'm sure you'll get used to it pretty quick," Alfred replied, chuckling. She had to admit, she _did _miss life at Wayne Manor. It was nice having so much more space than her mother's apartment. Lysa stepped back out into her room and gazed out the window. Somewhere deep down she hoped that Bruce would be just outside, and see her and smile. But she pushed the feeling away. Bruce wasn't even here to meet her.

Lysa started unpacking the box, taking her laptop out and realizing there was no desk to put it on. "I think I'll need a desk to do homework and stuff," she said, looking up at Alfred. "I think that can be arranged," he smiled.

Rachel returned to her room with the box of books, looking slightly winded. "Well if that's it, I should be getting to work," Rachel said, putting down the box and hugging Lysa. "Be nice to your father," she whispered. Lysa groaned a little while Rachel kissed the top of her head and left. "I'll let you get settled in," Alfred said. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Alfred," Lysa replied. After Alfred left, she placed her laptop on her bed, and put _Goodnigh Moon _on top of it. Once she unzipped her suitcase, the top practically popped off. She started taking out her sweaters and tee-shirts and the occasional dress and hung them in her closet with the stack of wooden hangers that were in a pile in the corner.

By the time half of her suit case was unpacked, there was a knock at the door. It must be Alfred. "Alfred, where do you suppose I should put all this old stuff..." she said as she raised her head towards the door. But it wasn't Alfred.

It was Bruce.

And she thought he wouldn't show up. "And he finally makes an appearance," Lysa said bitterly, crossing her arms and sitting on the foot for her bed. "Sorry, I got... caught up with something," he said nonchalantly. "_Surprise, surprise,_" Lysa pursed her lips. Bruce sighed deeply and sat down next to her on the bed. "I know I'm not 'Dad of the year' but I've missed you, so much. I've thought about you every day for the past seven years. When I left, I was being selfish. But I'm back now, for as long as it takes-"

"Bruce, all I want from you is the truth. Why you left, where you were, why you came back. All I've heard are rumours and rumours and rumours. For seven years," tears welled up in Lysa's eyes, and sweat developed on her palms. "I thought that you left because of me, or Mom-"

"No, that is definitely _not _true. I'm so sorry you heard those rumours. Don't _ever _think that I left because of you or your mother," Bruce said and reached out to hold her hand. Lysa jerked away. "I get that you're sorry, I know you're sorry. But the fact is, you _left. _You disappeared for seven years. I lived with Mom for seven years. And even's that's not true. Mom was, _is, _so wrapped up in her job that she was never home. The first thing she did when you left was hire a nanny because she couldn't take me to school, make my lunch or tuck me in at night. For seven years, in wasn't you, it wasn't Mom, it was a nanny. So yeah, everything can't go back to the way it was, and _I'm sorry _if _you_ think that," Lysa confessed. She was crying now, her warm tears rolling down her cheeks and catching on her lips.

"I know everything can't go back to the way it was, but I'm willing to try, if you are," Bruce looked into her eyes, and kissed the top of her head. "Why don't you come with me to Wayne Enterprises tomorrow?" He suggested. "You know they declared you 'dead', right?" She said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Well, now they can declare me 'not dead'," he replied, as if he could make everything right with just his word. Sure, she might have laughed at the remark at a different time, if things were normal, but they weren't. "You're just going to walk in take back the company? Good luck with that," she scoffed. "Don't worry, I have a plan. I'll work my way from the bottom up if I have to," Bruce said, with sincerity to Lysa's surprise.

Bruce kneeled in front of Lysa, taking her hands in his. His gray-blue eyes stared at hers, and she could help but feel _a little _guilty, even though it was Bruce who should feel guilty. "I really want to make things better, Lysa. Please," he squeezed her hands, like the way he did seven years ago. Bruce _did _feel guilty. Lysa sighed. "Fine," she agreed, "I'll go with you. Besides, it would be nice for _Wayne _Enterprises to be run by a member of the _Wayne _family."


	4. Chapter III

**Author's Note: Thank you for the lovely reviews! :) ALSO, please note that I changed some of the events in the movie to fit with the story (no major changes, just the time in which events take place). **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Chapter Three<p>

Two days after Bruce's return.

**"You've **_**got **_**to** be kidding me," Lyssandra gasped as she stood on the field behind Wayne Manor, in front of a helicopter. "What, the Ferrari on Friday wasn't enough?" Bruce laughed beside her. "Well, you know me. I always like to make an entrance," he flashed a smile to her. "That's what I'm worried about," Lysa mumbled, though she knew Bruce could hear her. "Come on," Bruce squeezed her hand. "It'll be be fun."

Lysa and Bruce strode onto the helicopter, Bruce steeping up first and then helping Lysa up. He handed a pair of ear muffs. She took them rather hesitantly, but put them on after Bruce gave her an encouraging look. She buckled her seat belt, after two failed attempts, and soon the helicopter started whirring loudly, even with the earmuffs, and they were in the air, approaching the Gotham City skyline.

Last night, after she'd agreed to accompany Bruce to Wayne Industries, he'd promised to get her room new furniture, although she still liked most of it, and then left the room. Honestly, she hadn't known what to expect after that conversation. Would they eat dinner together? Turned out that they hadn't. Alfred made her ravioli and said Bruce was out busy, whatever that meant.

It had been nice to sleep in her old bed again; it still smelled of the Snuggle fabric softener that the covers were washed with. In the morning, she was greeted by Alfred and a plate of chocolate chip waffles, her childhood favourite. Then, two hours later they were in a helicopter on their way to Wayne Enterprises.

"So, where were you last night?" Lysa asked. It seemed like she was screaming over the whirring of the helicopter. "You missed Alfred's ravioli." Bruce smiled. "I had to take care of something," he told her vaguely. "You with your secrets," she muttered. Lysa didn't think he had heard her comment, but he smirked. Maybe one day he would explain everything, hopefully.

Only a few minutes later the helicopter touched down on the helipad at the Wayne Enterprises headquarters. Lysa had to admit, the helicopter was much more convenient than driving. She unbuckled her seat belt and handed the pilot her ear muffs. The air was cool when she stepped out beside her father, it pricked at her cheeks. She pulled her leather jacket tighter around her chest as Bruce led her inside the building.

Memories flashed in her head of when Bruce had taken her to Wayne Enterprises when she was younger – before he left. The sleek gray walls and glass doors were all too familiar, even though she hadn't stepped foot in the building since Bruce left. However there weren't as many employees hurrying from office to office as she remembered. But when she and Bruce passed employees typing away at their computers, they would stop and stare as the Waynes past. More staring, more whispering. It was staring to drive Lysa insane.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," she mumbled as they stepped onto an elevator taking them even higher – to the main board room. "What?" Bruce chuckled. "All the staring, whispering. It's driving me crazy," she replied, leaning against the cool railing of the elevator. "That's what comes with being a Wayne," he sighed, as if he was tired of the attention as well. She couldn't blame him, but Bruce dealt with it way better than Lysa ever could. "Yeah, well I didn't ask for it," she said rather bitterly, but a moment later wished the words hadn't come out of her mouth. Bruce said exactly what she was thinking – "I didn't either."

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Lysa and Bruce strode to a desk just outside the board room, where a young brown-haired woman was typing away. She didn't look up when Bruce spoke. "Good morning, I'm here to see Mr. Earle," he said in his smooth, professional tone. "Name?" the woman spoke dryly. He leaned against the desk and smiled. "Bruce Wayne. And guest Lyssandra Wayne." The woman's head immediately shot up in surprise. She stared at Lysa and Bruce for a moment before doing anything.

When the woman finally spoke to Bruce, he went from businessman to playboy in ten seconds. The two talked until his arms were around her, showing her how to putt a golf ball along the carpet. Lysa stood to the side awkwardly, wishing she had her book to distract her.

The door of the office leading to the board room burst open suddenly, making her jump. It was Mr. Earle, the man running Wayne Enterprises. His expression was hard. He paid no attention to her or Bruce, whose back was turned to him. "Jessica, who's answering the phones?" he yelled impatiently. Bruce turned around, smirking. "It's Wayne Enterprises, Mr. Earle. I'm sure they'll call back."

Mr. Earle stood in place, dumbstruck. But he must've seen the news, he knew Bruce had returned. Maybe he, or anybody else for that matter, didn't expect he'd actually showed up at the company. "Bruce?" was all the businessman could say. Lysa could see other employees in the board meeting peering into the room from their chairs, eager to see what was going on. "We… we thought you were dead. We thought that you weren't going to come."

"Sorry to disappoint," Bruce replied, obviously happy that he pissed off the man who was running his company. Mr. Earle walked back into the board room and told the employees to take a break, then invited Lysa and Bruce in. "Nice to see you again, Lyssandra," Mr. Earle said as she entered the massive room. "It's been a while."

"Yes it has," Lysa replied. Mr. Earle quickly turned to Bruce. "You realize, Bruce, that it's too late to stop the public offering–"

"I understand," Bruce told him. "I'll be handsomely rewarded for my shares. I'm not here to interfere – I'm just looking for a job. I just want to get to know the company my family built."

"Any idea where you'd start?"

"Applied Sciences caught my eye." Mr. Earle's eyebrows raised in surprise. Lysa was just as surprised as well. _What did Bruce know about applied sciences?_ "Mr. Fox's department? Perfect, I'll make the call."

Five minutes later, Lysa and Bruce were on the elevator again, descending the numerous floors to the basement where the Applies Sciences division was located. Mr. Earle wanted to escort them, but Bruce insisted that he could find the way. "Why Applied Sciences?" Lysa asked, tapping her fingers against her crossed arms. "I thought you wanted to take back the company."

"You were right – everything can't go back to the way it was. So I'm going to start with Mr. Fox and get to know my family's company," he said. Deep down, Lysa felt a pang in her chest. Bruce, her father, he knew she was right. He really _was _trying to make things better. But the memory of him leaving without a trace floated into her mind. It still bothered her how he was obviously keeping secrets from her, how he wouldn't tell her why he left or where he went or why he came back. It tugged at her every day.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing a large, open, fluorescent-lit room that resembled a warehouse more than anything. Stacks of crates and metal boxes were scattered everywhere, and white sheets covered large objects, reminding her of Wayne Manor. A tall, dark-skinned man, Mr. Fox presumably, sat at a desk reading a stack of papers. It all seemed familiar to Lysa. Then she remembered that she'd been down her before, when she was eight. Bruce had given her a tour of practically the whole building. "This might all be yours someday," he had said. Nothing about the room had changed, the boxes and crates where still there, and same with the mysteriously-covered objects.

When Mr. Fox saw them approaching, he stood up and shook both their hands. "Environmental applications, defense projects, consumer products…" he gestured to the crates and boxes, "all prototypes, none in production at any level whatsoever."

"None?" Bruce asked, surprised. _If none these products were being produced, what was Mr. Fox doing? _"Did they tell you what this place was?" Mr. Fox asked. Bruce shook his head. "They didn't tell me anything."

"Earle told me exactly _what _it was when he sent me here… a dead end where I couldn't cause any more trouble for the rest of the board."

"You were on the board?"

"Back when your father ran things," Mr. Fox sighed. Bruce pressed on with questions. "You knew my father?" Mr. Fox smiled. "Oh, sure. Helped him build his train." He turned to a box and opened it, pulling out what looked like climbing equipment. They two quickly fell into conversation, and Lysa slipped away to explore more of the room. It mostly the same-looking boxes over and over again. But a huge object covered by a white dust-cover in the corner of the room caught her eye. It almost looked like the outline of a tank.

Lysa slowly lifted the corner of the cover, peering under it. She couldn't quite make out what it was, but it looked strangely familiar.

"Ready to go?" Bruce's voice chirped from behind her. Lysa quickly dropped the cover, concealing the tank-like object. She nodded.

"That was pretty quick," Lysa noted as they entered the elevator. "I just wanted to check out a few things. And besides, I work here now, I can see this stuff every day."

"I don't suppose you'll tell _why _you chose Applied Sciences."

"Mr. Fox supplies products that I'm interested in," Bruce replied vaguely. Lysa didn't expect anything else. "Now," he said as the elevator door opened to the main lobby of the building. "Let's find you some new furniture for your room."

* * *

><p>By nine o'clock that night, Lysa and Bruce finished building a new desk and a new bookcase for her room. The bookcase now housed all the books she'd brought from her mother's apartment as well as her old children's books. They'd bolted it to the wall by her bed, while they placed the new desk in a small alcove of the room. Bruce even got about one hundred dollars' worth of stationary and supplies. It almost felt as if she'd never left Wayne Manor to live with her mother.<p>

"So, how did we do?" Bruce asked between a bit of his grilled cheese sandwich. They been working non-stop since they got back, they didn't stop to have dinner. Alfred noticed eventually and brought up sandwiches and glasses of lemonade. "I love it," Lysa replied, taking a big sip of lemonade. "It feels even more like home."

The sun had already set over the horizon, and the night sky filled with twinkling stars. During the summer, she and Bruce always used to lie on the lawn behind the manor, just staring up at the night sky. Wayne Manor was far enough from the city that its light didn't drown out the shining stars. Another thing she missed when she moved to the city, to her mother's apartment.

"Let's bring these boxes downstairs," Bruce said, finishing off his sandwich. "Then you should get some sleep. You'll need it to face the day tomorrow." _Oh right, school. _Lysa clenched her teeth at the thought. But she knew Mason and Alexa would help her through it, which comforted her thoughts.

"It could drive you," Bruce suggested as they walked down the grand staircase, carrying the cardboard boxes Lysa's furniture came it. "Pardon?" Lysa asked, a bit distracted by the looming thought of school the next day. "I could drive you to school," Bruce repeated. "Really?" Lysa cocked her head in surprise. "Sure, I'd be happy to," he said. Lysa smiled. "Okay, thanks," she paused. "But not in that Ferrari, right? Or a helicopter, or whatever other million-dollar vehicle you have stored away somewhere." Bruce laughed, the same laugh since she was a child. "No, I'll choose something a little less spontaneous."

"Bruce Wayne, not being spontaneous? I didn't think that was possible," Lysa joked. Bruce laughed with her. "I'll let you keep a low profile as long as you want, until you're comfortable." Lysa's cheeks warmed as she smiled. "Sounds good."


End file.
